


Paperwork signed Haymitch

by oakfarmer



Series: Filed Away [3]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Post-Mockingjay, Sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20632799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oakfarmer/pseuds/oakfarmer
Summary: Snippets in the 'Paperwork' universe (multiverse?)From the perspective of everyone's favorite drunk1) “The one time he’d managed to get him on the phone, he was too drunk to take anything seriously. He just kept going on about how Gale sounded like he needed to get laid.”2) "I went to the village late one night, and the three of them ran out holding a broken bottle, a rolling pin, and a cat. You’d actually be surprised who was holding what.” Rory chuckles.3) A District 12 Harvest Festival season. Aka my Octoberlark contribution





	1. Year 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The one time he’d managed to get him on the phone, he was too drunk to take anything seriously. He just kept going on about how Gale sounded like he needed to get laid.”

3 years after the war (1 year and 1 month after ‘so after’) -

It’s early evening, they’ve been going back and forth on this chess game for over an hour. Peeta is on a two-game winning streak, Haymitch is determined to not allow it to become three.

He’s gone so far as to be fairly sober in planning for their match. The housekeeper came today, so he could set up the board on his home turf. Then he went stumbling across the yard, trying to appear not so drunk that Peeta would decline, but drunk enough to instill some overconfidence.

But the kid can be so goddamn patient. Haymitch can get hasty in the second hour and Peeta knows it. But Haymitch knows the kid’s weakness, too.

The phone rings as Peeta capture’s Haymitch’s queen.

“That’s the third time this game. I’ll get it. It’s probably just Effie.” Peeta starts to reach for it.

“No, fine, I’ll answer.” Haymitch jumps over before Peeta can pick it up. He needs the time to figure out his next move now, anyway.

A rough and curt voice speaks, “Abernathy, glad to finally get you on the phone. This is Gale Hawthorne.”

Haymitch holds the receiver with his shoulder and picks up the base, returning to his place in front of the board. “Hawthorne, so what do I owe the pleasure?” Peeta lifts an eyebrow.

“I received Mellark’s treatment release a few days ago. After speaking with Dr. Aurelius, there is a strong possibility he will be resettling back with you and Katniss in Twelve.” Gale’s militaristic tone is already grating on Haymitch.

“Well that explains the bread I had for breakfast. Surprised we haven’t starved to death out here.” Haymitch moves his remaining knight.

There’s a long pause before Gale says, “So, you’ve seen him then.”

“Who?”

“Mellark!” And that formal façade has shown a crack. 

“Oh Peeta.” He sees Peeta’s eye twitch while he studies the board. “Yea I’ve seen him around.”

“Well how does he seem to you? The doctor claims he is effectively cured.” Gale puts too much emphasis on the word ‘effectively’ for Haymitch’s liking.

Peeta takes one of his rooks with a pawn. “He seems like a pain in the ass.” Haymitch grumbles.

“What does that mean? Have you seen any signs of the hijacking? A protection unit should be assigned to Katniss. At least for the first year, until he’s proven he can live near her without experiencing an episode.” Gale prattles off like he’s reading from a paper.

“Hate to break it to you, but Sweetheart ain’t gonna agree to that. I think she quite likes having him around without an audience.” Haymitch slides his bishop and then takes a swig from his bottle on the floor.

“Well,” Gale lets out a short sigh before continuing, “as the current representative of twelve you’re actually able to put the order in, if you believe she’s in danger.”

“Really?” A devilish grin spreads across Haymitch’s face while watching Peeta. “So, I just say the word and a Peacekeeper will stand between the two of them at all times?” Peeta’s hand pauses, hovering over the piece he was about to move.

“Essentially, that’s correct.” Gale answers.

Haymitch holds eye contact with his opponent, “Now when they start going at it… in the bedroom if you will, where will the peacekeeper be then?”

“Haymitch!” Gale shouts into the receiver. Peeta rolls his eyes and completes his turn, silently mouthing ‘check’.

“I’m just trying to get a full mental image here.” Haymitch flourishes his hand into the air. “That’s what you’re really worried about isn’t it?”

Gale stammers, “That’s not… that doesn’t have anything--” 

“You sound awfully tense. The ladies of two not impressed by a military man?” Haymitch moves the king out of check.

“Wow, I can call back when you’re sober.” Haymitch is happy to hear Gale’s polished formal tone is completely gone now. 

“I already feel too sober for this conversation.” He picks up his liquor to take a slurping gulp.

“So, you don’t have any reservations about him being around Katniss? No concerns? Do you even care about her well-being anymore?” Gale peppers him with sarcastic questions.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Peeta gives him a warning look. “After you get laid, you can call me back and I’ll listen to how concerned you are about Sweetheart’s well-being.” Peeta shakes his head and moves his queen.

“Goodbye, Abernathy!” Gale slams down the phone.

Haymitch looks much too pleased with himself as he hangs up.

“Why didn’t you just tell him I was allowed to do treatments by phone?” Even though he’s trying to hide it, there’s a hint of a smile on Peeta’s face.

“You of all people know how much trouble the doc could get into for that.” Haymitch picks up his rook.

“Yea, I'm not saying announce it. I’m saying tell Gale.” Peeta keeps his focus on the game piece Haymitch is fidgeting side to side.

“Over the phone? On his government gig phone line?” He hops the piece down the board to its square.

“Okay, yea you’re right. Probably not the best idea. Just feel bad leaving him in the dark like that.” The kid is too nice per usual.

“The guy called to set up an armed guard to sleep between you and your wife.” Haymitch’s earlier mental image had gone to some interesting places. A sexually frustrated Peeta and Katniss, staring at each other, while a Peacekeeper snores between them for one.

Peeta laughs. “He’s trying to protect Katniss, in his own way. I won’t fault him for that. The last time he saw me was the Star Squad, I’d think she needed a guard too.” He moves his queen back.

Haymitch shakes his head and tips his bottle into his mouth. “You know kid, for someone who’s such a strategist, you make too many sacrifices to protect that queen.” Haymitch moves his knight to take a pawn. “And that’s why you’re in Checkmate.”


	2. Year 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I went to the village late one night, and the three of them ran out holding a broken bottle, a rolling pin, and a cat. You’d actually be surprised who was holding what.” Rory chuckles.

4 years after the war (2 years and 9 months after ‘so after’)

It’s shortly after nightfall. She’s opened the window to let in the spring breeze or to air out the tension in this kitchen. He’s not sure which. He’d rather not have stale bread for dinner a third night in a row though, so here he sits.

Maybe if he hadn’t run out of the hard stuff a week ago, they wouldn’t be in this position. No one in town has taken up the moonshine banner yet. Huckle and some of the other farmers have started experimenting with grain brews. They’re better than nothing but too weak to keep him in his ideal relaxed zone.

Buttercup jumps up on the tabletop in front of Haymitch. “Gah, you ever gonna train him to keep his grubby ass off the table?” With a quick shove, the cat returns to the floor. 

“You’re really one to talk about unruly animals.” Katniss continues her work at the counter. She’s forming a small ball of dough before rolling it flat. The meat mixture that will fill the mini pie crusts is sizzling on the stove.

She’s been trying to incorporate more of the bakery’s recipes into the meals she prepares. Business is booming with the returning residents also bringing the return of the annual celebrations. The kid needs all the help he can get in there, and she needs the practice.

Sweetheart is a decent cook. It’s baking that seems to elude her. The exact science and order of things that must be followed for reasons she hasn’t learned just yet. She never was great at strictly sticking to directions.

Peeta comes in, his shoulders slumped, holding a bottle. “Hey, I picked up the shipment on my way back.” He hands Haymitch the prized liquid. “Rest of the crate’s on your porch. By the way, Spunknik is out again.” Katniss shoots Haymitch a glare.

His favorite goose is always finding ways to escape the yard. He usually doesn’t go far, but prefers full access to the village. “K, I’ll get him in a bit.”

The kid looks tired. The factory grand opening is in five days. Peeta’s been pulling earlier shifts at the bakery so that he can spend a few hours painting at the factory. It’s a major undertaking for the emotionally draining art installation.

Peeta takes over the rolling pin from Katniss. He rummages through a drawer for a round cookie cutter. Flourishes flour across the counter and begins to roll the remainder of the dough. She focuses on the pan of minced meat. Buttercup winds between her feet for the morsels she will deliberately drop.

Haymitch opens his fresh bottle to take several swigs. The comforting burn running down his throat while he watches their turned backs. “So, do we need to talk about it, or are you two gonna keep this up?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Katniss states to the stove.

“You just,” Peeta sighs, “you need to start knocking.”

“Oh, like it’s my fault? If you’d keep that mangy feline away from my birds, I wouldn’t have come over here in the first place.” Haymitch stands up from the table. “Look this doesn’t need to be a big deal. I’ll most definitely be knocking next time. Got a tablecloth or something?”

“Why?” Peeta asks.

“If you’re going to invite people to dinner at the same table where you’ve been fu---"

“Damn it, Haymi—-“ Katniss steps on the cat’s tail underfoot, Buttercup’s yell interrupting her own.

He leaps up and dashes across the table. Knocking the precious bottle to the ground where it shatters.

“That was almost full!” Haymitch shouts. “I’m already rationing!”

Katniss squats to the floor and starts to clean up the broken glass. “You more than deserved that, and we don’t have to feed you. How ‘bout you----"

“Stop!” Peeta's grip has tightened around the rolling pin handles. His fists shaking with the pressure. “Hush a minute.” He says through clenched teeth, his eyes squeezed shut.

Katniss and Haymitch freeze. Of all the things Peeta could use for an anchor, a rolling pin is less than ideal. It’s a bit too... swingable for comfort.

The hiss on the stove and grinding teeth are the only sounds in the kitchen. The tension slowly unfurls down Peeta’s back. As his grip loosens, Haymitch glides over and slips the pin out of his hands.

Peeta flops into one of the dining chairs. Propping his elbows on the table with his face in his hands.

Katniss rises up, still holding the neck half of the broken bottle. Haymitch places a gentle hand on top of Peeta’s shoulder, his voice quiet. “Kid, you don’t have to finish it by opening. It’s too much. This town would give you all the time you needed.”

Once again, the cat decides it belongs on the table. Peeta scoops the ball of fur into his arms, petting him between the ears. Buttercup has the audacity to purr after all the trouble he’s caused.

There’s a shout outside on the lawn. Katniss and Haymitch bolt for the door, Peeta stumbling behind.

“Who the hell is it?” Haymitch’s eyes adjusting to the night.

“Woah, put down your weapons. It’s just me, Rory!” His hands raised up in surrender. The three of them must be quite the sight. Three victors. One raising a broken bottle and one a wooden rolling pin. The crazy one in the middle, clinging to his teddy cat. “That gander got me again Haymitch! When it’s finally time to roast him, I want an invite to dinner.”

Haymitch slowly feels his muscles relax. Maybe those few sips he got from that bottle are finally kicking in. “Well, be sure to bring a tablecloth.”


	3. Octoberlark

It’s early morning, well early as far as Haymitch is concerned. He’s not sure what hour the kid left this (undeserving of the name) ‘bread’ in his kitchen. His routine of falling asleep at daybreak and waking to a fresh loaf around noon has been disrupted.

Maybe it was the strange smell that roused him from his restless alcohol induced sleep. Somehow managing to overpower the other less than pleasant scents in his house. He needs to let Peeta know that he’s lost his sense of taste before he ruins the bakery’s reputation.

He'd seen the baker busy in the kitchen across the street. When Haymitch went outside and attempted to give some of the bread chunks to his geese. They looked at him like his last name was Hawthorne and left the breakfast where it had landed on the ground.

Knocking on the Mellark front door, he hears the all clear welcome. But when he open’s it, the assault from the kitchen is so powerful, he has to take a few gulps of the chilly air before he can force himself to enter.

“What is this?” Haymitch holds up the torn loaf and gestures to whatever Peeta’s mixing on the counter.

“Good morning! Nice to see you out and about this fine day.” Peeta practically skips to the pan on the stove. “That is your hand delivered, expertly crafted lunch.” The kid flashes him a wide genuine smile. If Peeta weren’t apparently in such a good mood, he may have given Haymitch one of his lack of gratitude lectures.

“And this,” Peeta takes a taste of the concoction he’s brewing to repel business, “is my almost perfected pumpkin spice cookies recipe.”

Haymitch tries to take a deep breath but remembers he needs to open the window first. “Look, kid. This is bad. There’s no way to sugar coat or frost this that will make this taste okay.”

“I guess you’re not a pumpkin spice fan. It’s called the new flavor of fall. Been selling like crazy. A big batch came on last month’s supply train. The grocer sold out in the first week and had to order more. The bakery will barely have enough to get through the harvest festival.” Peeta bounces from stove to counter.

He leans out the now open window. “People will buy anything, I guess. Speaking of, shouldn’t you be at the bakery?”

“Davy and Flynn have it covered. They just need to do the standards today. This is the last recipe I need to get worked out and we’ll be ready by Sunday. I’d hoped you could be my taster this afternoon, but I guess that isn’t going to work.” Peeta winks at him. It’s too early for this much cheer.

“What happened to Sweetheart’s official tester title?”

Peeta glances towards the stairs, “She’s not feeling up to it right, now.”

“Or maybe she doesn’t want to tell you how awful it is.” Haymitch reaches for his flask but doesn’t find it in his pocket.

Peeta grins and shakes his head, “Yea, maybe.”

“I’m heading to Huckle’s. See if I can get this taste washed out of my mouth.” Of all the seasons to go screwing with. Why did it have to be Haymitch’s favorite to get the weird spice treatment.

“Hey! You’re just in time to test the harvest batch.” Huckle’s greeting is chipper enough to rival his wife’s disposition.

The Linden farm’s grain brews have slowly replaced Haymitch’s liquor bottles over the years. Huckle figured out how to make stronger batches to please his number one customer. And Haymitch figured out how to spend his days on the soberish side.

Haymitch gives a half-hearted wave while plopping onto one of the barstools they keep at their kitchen mini bar. His chatty bartender fills him in on the latest farm operations, taking Haymitch’s grumbled responses as rapt interest.

“Here ya go. This recipe finished fermenting, should be all set for the festival.” Huckle pops the lid of two bottles and hands one to Haymitch. “I’ve already tasted it. Might be my favorite brew yet.”

They clink their bottles together in their habitual toast to good brews and raise them in a united sip. The amber liquid hits Haymitch’s tongue and is already sliding down his throat before he can spit it back into the bottle.

“Bleh, Huck, it’s gone off.” He scrunches up his face and goes to the sink. Filling a cup with the type of clear liquid he only drinks in emergencies. And this is an emergency.

Huckle looks horrified. Quickly grabbing the discarded bottle and pouring it into a glass to study what has gone wrong. He lifts it into the light then takes a tentative sip. “It….that’s how it’s suppose to taste. It’s pumpkin spice flavored.”

“Not you too. I had my first run-in with that unnatural flavor profile this morning.” Haymitch wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

The youngest Linden kid comes bounding into the kitchen. “Hey, Mister Haymitch. Want to try this year’s kettle corn?” Delly and Huckle’s harvest festival stand is always popular between the beer and the popcorn, Haymitch spends half the festival close by.

But he can already see that the corn isn’t right. The color’s off and when the kid holds it up to his face, he’s hit with the same nauseating steam from Peeta’s kitchen. “Let me guess. It’s pumpkin spiced.”

“Yep.” The kid says before tossing a kernel into his mouth. “Mommy’s making it for the booth. The theme is ‘The Farmer takes the Spice’.”

As annoyed as Delly used to get at Haymitch’s Farmer Dell jokes, she sure likes to fit it into the farm’s branding. Haymitch takes a step away from the fumes. “That’s okay, kid. I’m good. But thanks for the warning.”

He can’t find a refuge from the spice craze at this year’s harvest festival. Every booth he passes has incorporated it into their autumn offerings. Of all the flavor fads that come and go, he hopes this one goes the fastest.

Sweetheart finds him up-wind of the tainted air. She has escaped Peeta’s arm that’s been looped around her waist all day, to bring Haymitch their traditional mugs of spiked apple cider.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Please tell me they haven’t tried to spice up our favorite drink.” Haymitch calls as she wanders up to him.

Katniss smirks. “Peeta says you’re not enjoying the new flavor of fall.” She hands him his cup and he scowls down at it.

“Ug, why? It was perfect the way it was.” Haymitch is ready to dump the mug out right then and there. Wants to yank out the stupid cinnamon stick and whatever new combination has been sprinkled over the top. It's a step too far trying to change his favorite drink of what was his favorite season.

“Just try it.” She takes a sip from her own cup.

He slowly lifts the mug to his lips. Inhaling the steam that doesn’t immediately repulse him. Ever so slowly he takes a sip. Then another. It’s sweet but not, the taste he’s enjoyed year after year, enhanced with something distinctly fall.

“Now this is some pumpkin spice I can support.” Haymitch toasts Katniss with his mug.

“That’s because it’s not pumpkin spice, it’s salted caramel.” Katniss meets his toast then continues taking tiny sips.

Haymitch watches her. “How come mine has this stick thing and yours doesn’t?”

“Means mine isn’t spiked.” She blows on the cider, cooling it down. He sees her other hand resting on her stomach.

How many weeks now has Peeta been dancing around, hovering over her. How many dinners has she skipped lately? The smile grows on Haymitch’s face.“You’re pregnant.” 

She looks down at her belly then back at him. Only answering with a single nod before returning to her drink.

He almost can’t believe it. It’s been years since he dared to hope for this. Hope those two would make a go at the family Peeta openly and Katniss secretly so desperately wanted.

“When should I expect little bit’s arrival?” Haymitch asks.

Katniss sighs. If he knows her at all, this pregnancy is going to be taken one day at a time. “Spring.”

Haymitch takes a big gulp of his warm fall beverage. Looks like he’s found a new favorite season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the first nicknames Haymitch called toastbaby girl was 'Pumpkin'. :)


End file.
